


Something to Remember Me By

by Jinniyah



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: eleventy_kink, Dark!Jack, M/M, dark!Doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-09
Updated: 2012-05-09
Packaged: 2017-11-05 02:04:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinniyah/pseuds/Jinniyah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's payback time for the Doctor:<br/><i>'You're not my friend.  Not anymore.'  Jack gets in the Doctor's face, grabbing his hair tight in one fist.  'That ship sailed some time ago.  You need to get that straight in your head.  What you are is the reason my life went to hell.'</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Something to Remember Me By

**Author's Note:**

> What if Jack 'went bad' after the events of 'Children of Earth'? With a twist.

Jack knows who it is. 

He's known ever since he was handed the sonic screwdriver. It may not look quite like the last one Jack saw, but it's recognisable enough. Without a word, he slips it into his pocket and heads into the small room that serves for interrogation.

The name Jack knows doesn't match the face he sees when he enters. He's changed again. This time around he appears younger, like he shouldn't be out on his own without supervision. Which is true enough if he's let himself get captured this easily. His limbs look long and gangly, although it's not that easy to tell because he's been shoved down into a chair, hands cuffed behind his back, and he's clearly been given a bit of a beating on route to the Base.

And that, Jack observes, isn't all they'll give him if they get half a chance. He's young enough to be fresh meat for a bunch of hard-nosed men who've been stuck out here for the best part of nine months, and it doesn't hurt that he's verging on pretty with his floppy hair and lanky build.

'Hello, Jack.' The Doctor looks up at him. Green eyes this time, Jack notes. He makes a short sharp gesture at the other men. 

'Out.'

They don't argue or speak, but one or two of them have a smirk on their faces when they leave.

Jack grabs a chair and straddles it, producing a trade-mark grin that he knows damn well doesn't reach his eyes. 'They think I'm going to fuck you.'

'Oh, I rather think they're just hoping you'll throw them the leftovers.' 

'Maybe I will. Pays to keep them sweet. ' The Doctor shouldn't sound this composed, Jack thinks with a flash of anger. 'Why are you here, Doctor?'

'You know who I am, then.' 

Jack draws the sonic from his pocket and tosses it idly from one hand to another. 'This was a bit of a giveaway. And your fashion sense confirmed it. You're rocking the braces, but the bow tie? Please. I asked you why you were here.'

'Yes, well, an old military base currently under the control of a bunch of escaped convicts ... not my usual haunt, it's true.' The Doctor wriggles his shoulders uncomfortably. 'Escaped, unpleasantly violent convicts. Anyway. I'm here for you, Jack. Why else?'

'You tracked me down, and came to save me from myself? How sweet.' 

'The 456. What happened on Earth –'

'Hey. Spare me the spiel. I know how it goes. You're sorry, so sorry, that people I cared about died, but fixed point in time. Blah, blah. Am I right?'

The Doctor sighs. 'Jack, you've every right to feel bitter about –'

'Why, thank you for validating my pain, Doctor. That makes me feel so much better.' Jack pockets the sonic with a snarl.

'Do you intend letting me finish a sentence?'

'Just did. Go on.'

'I tracked you down to try and, well, make some kind of belated amends. Take you wherever you wanted to go. That sort of thing. But I'll get out of your life and stay out, if that's what you want.'

'What I want?' Jack regards the Doctor thoughtfully. 'How about if I said what I want was payback?'

'The 456–'

'Not the 456. You.' Jack pauses for best dramatic effect. 'I want payback from you. I want you to know how it feels to get screwed ...' Jack pauses again, but this time the Doctor goes off-script and completes the sentence.

'You mean literally.' When Jack stares at him, the Doctor adds, 'Oh come on. It's really not that difficult to work out. Not when you're already ... excited at the prospect. Disturbing and sad, yes. But unexpected, no.'

'Sorry to be so predictable.'

'Pheromones. You can't mask them any more than your convict friends can. I'm sorry.'

'Because you let me down.'

'Because you're letting yourself down,' the Doctor says calmly.

'You sanctimonious little shit!' Jack stands, the chair falling under him, his hands bunched into fists. 'Don't you dare presume –'

'I know you, Jack. You're my friend, and who else can presume if not a –'

'You're not my friend. Not anymore.' Jack gets in the Doctor's face, grabbing his hair tight in one fist. 'That ship sailed some time ago. You need to get that straight in your head. What you are is the reason my life went to hell, and when I've finished using you as my fucktoy you'll know exactly how I feel about that.'

'This isn't you, Jack –'

'What was that? Didn't quite catch it. Last ditch call for sanity, was it? Uh-huh. Not going to work, Doctor. Because this _is_ me. This is what you made me.'

'No, this is what you made yourself – if you go ahead with it. It's not too –'

Jack shuts up the Doctor by hauling him out of the chair and shoving him hard against the table. With his hands cuffed, he's not in a position to resist. And he's even less able to resist when Jack deals a quick blow to the solar plexus, temporarily winding him. As the Doctor struggles for breath, Jack spins him around and throws him face down across the table. After that, it's a simple enough matter for Jack to drag the Doctor's pants down to his ankles and position him just where he wants him.

'It's not too late? That what you were going to say, Doctor? Might want to rethink that now.'

'Jack –'

'Tell you what, Doctor.' Jack leans forward and whispers confidentially in his ear. 'Just to prove I'm not a total villain, when I'm done fucking you, I won't turn you over to my friends outside. I'll let you go free. How about that?'

'And you trust them?' The Doctor manages to gasp out, like he's still struggling for breath. 'Really?'

'No,' Jack tells him, almost cheerfully. 'But they do as they're told anyway. I can't die. And they can. Kinda focuses their minds on my orders. And that's enough talk already. Because I want to play.' He yanks the Doctor's legs apart. 

Jack doesn't intend much by way of prepping, but he does need enough to give the Doctor a thorough fucking. Never mind pheromones, the thought of what he intends has his cock stiffening up nicely and he makes sure the Doctor knows it, deliberately rubbing up against him as he squeezes out some lube. 

The Doctor lets out a sharp hiss of breath as Jack shoves one slippery finger up inside him. 

Jack laughs. 'Am I in virgin territory here? Guess it's my lucky day. Not yours, though.' He slides out his finger, lubes up some more and then forces three digits inside the Doctor, working them remorselessly through the tight ring of muscle. The Doctor struggles under him, a small whimper escaping his lips, and the sound goes straight to Jack's cock. 'Hurts, does it? Good, because it's well past time you learned how it feels to get shafted. And, believe me, this is just the beginning.' 

He leans forward and locks one hand in the Doctor's hair, turning his head so that he can watch him. It's a pity that this isn't _his_ Doctor, the one with the pretty face and the big, brown eyes. But his Doctor's cheated him, and left this new one to carry the can. Jack can live with that, but he needs to see this unfamiliar young face twist in pain, wants to savour the moment when those green eyes fix on him in hurt and revulsion. 

Jack frees his cock, slicking himself up ready. He breaches the Doctor's body with a one sharp push and then presses in further, nice and slow, invading him one small piece at a time. And he thinks about all those moments he's fantasized about fucking the Doctor, never once imagining it would be in a twisted parody of love, with Jack taking his pleasure in the Doctor's pain. 

The Doctor is clearly in discomfort, looking less assured with every moment that passes; his dark quiff has fallen into his eyes, his lips drawn and pale. There's a sick flare of satisfaction low in Jack's belly as he forces his way inside and feels the Doctor shudder under his onslaught. 

'Hush now,' Jack croons, stroking a finger across the Doctor's lips. Gentle as a lover, he inches back until he's almost out and waits for the involuntary relief to flicker in the Doctor's face. Then Jack grins and slams his cock back deep inside. This time he makes the jerk of his hips hard and vicious enough to shock a sharp cry out of the Doctor, and Jack thinks it's the sweetest sound he's heard in a long time. Inspirational, in fact. 

Blood pounding in his ears, Jack starts fucking in earnest, going in fast and hard, hammering out every slight, every hurt on the Doctor's body. And each time he slams in deeper, forcing himself further inside, he imagines he's ripping away a little piece more of the Doctor's compassion and understanding. Jack has a vague awareness that he should find that appalling, but he doesn't. He won't last long, and that's all right with him. This is a brutal, fast fuck, just as he intends, and the Doctor's contorted face and moans of distress are just the frosting on a particularly delicious cake. 

'That's right, Doctor, scream all you like, you fucking bastard,' Jack hisses. 'I screamed for you and you never showed.'

The Doctor has his eyes closed, but with Jack's fist locked in his hair, keeping his head still, there's no way he can hide the tears when they finally spill from his eyes. And that's just the fillip that Jack's been waiting for. He uses a final staccato of savage thrusts to punctuate his words: 

'You. Never. Showed... Fuck you, Doctor. _Fuck! You!_ '

Jack comes with a howl of rage, the Doctor trapped and battered under him, helpless as a ragdoll. And the moment of orgasm is everything Jack desires, glorious in its utter, primal savagery, and he gluts himself on it until he's damn near full to bloating. Only then does he pull out and away, leaving the Doctor torn and hurting, tears still wet on his face.

Jack lets a trickle of water run into the small sink in the corner of the room, takes the flannel and starts to wash. The Doctor says nothing, making no further sound while Jack carefully cleans himself off. Jack looks at the view he has of him through the mirror. A stray part of him hopes that the sight of how he left Doctor – slumped over the table, pants shoved down to his ankles, semen and blood dribbling down his thighs - will shock him enough to put an end to this. But it doesn't because Jack still finds something deeply satisfying about seeing the Doctor laid open and ravaged in this way. It feels _good_.

'Payback's a real bitch, isn't it?' Jack says conversationally as he tosses the flannel in the sink. He crosses over to the Doctor, smoothing back the hair from his drawn face. 'Nothing to say to me, Doctor?'

'Yes. Have you done?' The Doctor snaps open his eyes and stares at Jack. 

'Yeah, I'm done.' Jack unfastens the cuffs and steps back. 

The Doctor lifts himself carefully from the table, staggering awkwardly against Jack as he does so. Then slowly he straightens up, his expression suddenly entirely too composed for comfort. He arranges his shirt cuffs over the raw, bruised skin at his wrists. 'I'd like to wash.'

'Knock yourself out.' Jack was prepared for anger, for grief, even for resignation, but there's something almost uncanny about the Doctor's sense of calm. Jack knows he hurt him; he'll remember the noises the Doctor made, and the look on his face, for the rest of time. 

Only when the Doctor stumbles over to the sink does Jack realise he forced an orgasm from him, and he grins. It's a purely physiological response, he knows that, but that doesn't stop him twisting the knife. 

'Guess you enjoyed yourself after all, huh?'

Jack doesn't expect an answer. Most of all, he doesn't expect the answer he gets.

'Yes, I did,' the Doctor says calmly, wiping himself down with the damp flannel. 'In a very sick and perverse way. Obviously.'

Jack stares at him, unable to think of a single coherent thing to say in response.

'What's the matter, Jack? Cat got your tongue?' The Doctor tosses the flannel back in the sink, pulls up his pants and turns to look at Jack. His face expresses a mild curiosity, but his eyes ... 

Dear God, his _eyes_ ... Still green, but somehow darker. And utterly alien. It's like staring into the heart of hell, but Jack finds he can't look away no matter how much he wants to. 

'Oh Jack, really,' the Doctor chides. 'You mean you witnessed my pathetic co-dependence issues with the Master for a whole year and never once wondered exactly how twisted my sexuality was? You can hardly fail to have noticed that I was his ...how did you put it? Oh yes. Fucktoy. Did you ever hear me protest, or see me fight back?'

Jack finds his voice. 'I thought you were trying to protect us from any retaliation.'

'Well, to be fair, that was part of it. But the unvarnished truth is the Master has been pulling my strings – sexually speaking – for hundreds of years. And I his. Compared to us, you're just a rank amateur. Sorry.' 

'I raped you.'

'Yes. You did. You bad, bad boy.' The Doctor smiles, and Jack can't remember seeing anything more sinister. 'You shouldn't have done that. You're not the Master. And really, you're not Captain Jack Harkness any more, either. You've made yourself into someone else entirely. Just a Jack-shaped ... _thing_. You wear his face, have his mannerisms and memories. But the person you are now isn't someone I care to know.'

'You're still my prisoner,' Jack said, desperate to regain some control over the situation.

'Really?' The Doctor pats his pockets and pulls out first his sonic screwdriver and then a gun. Jack's gun. 'Oh dear, you're getting sloppy.'

'I can't die and you won't use it.'

'You can die for a short time, which is all I need to get away. And are you absolutely certain I won't use it?' Rather carelessly, the Doctor lines up the gun with Jack's head.

Jack realises he isn't certain of anything anymore; he feels like his world has shifted on its axis, and not in a good way. He doesn't trust himself to speak. 

'No? Well, your convict friends will be even less certain,' the Doctor says. 'So you either stick with the agreement, or we can leave together with me on the business end of the gun. Or is the shooty bit the business end? Not really sure. Doesn't matter. You know what I mean.'

'Get out,' Jack says finally, his voice flat and hard. 'Just get the fuck out of here.' 

'My pleasure.' The Doctor sketches a slight bow. 'Good bye, Jack. I wish I could say it's been nice, but that wouldn't exactly be the truth, now would it?'

'If I see you again, I'll kill you,' Jack grinds out, the words all but clogging in his throat. 'Count on that, Doctor. And I'll keep on killing you as long as it takes. Is that understood?'

'Perfectly.' The Doctor slips the gun into his pocket and walks to the door. 

There are no more words left to be said. It's finished.

But when the Doctor has gone, and Jack tries to pull himself together, he finds he can't do it. His mind constantly skitters back to the moment his vengeance went cold and dead, and there's a sick taste of ash and acid in his mouth. 

Because he knows it's not finished. It's not finished at all. And in the minutes, hours, days (and _forever_?) to come, each time Jack dares to think he's put it behind him, in his mind's eye he sees the Doctor's face. 

Not his Doctor, but this new one. The one with the young face and green eyes, those hell-dark _alien_ eyes, locked on his in silent judgement, a tiny smile of damnation playing about his lips.

~end~


End file.
